Dreaming Terror
by sapphire blue-ruby red roses
Summary: Arya's been having nightmares and there's only one person who helps with them. no seriously, I don't know where the point of this went, it was just for the hell of it kind of fic, one-shot, T just to be safe


**So, this is my first Game of Thrones fic. I hope it isn't too terrible. I don't even know what the point of this fic is to be honest. And since I don't know Arya's actual age in the show right now, I was writing as if she was 14, so don't hang me, alright? Please? Oh, and anything in these ** is singing. Italics are dreaming, for the most part.**

**Discliamer: I own nothing!**

Dreaming Terror

"_Father!" Arya cried out, rushing through the crypts of Winterfell, deeper and deeper until the darkness had even swallowed the light of the torches. Each grave she tore past showed her a new face, faces she'd never met before, faces she'd only ever seen carved in the stone beneath the castle._

_Deeper and deeper she fled. There was no end, but if there were, they would surely catch her. Her Aunt Lyanna's face -a face she'd been told numerous times was very similar to her own, but she could never understand why- flashed in her peripheral vision, then her father's, her mother's, Robb's. All thin, gaunt, with sunken in eyes. Her Aunt Lyanna was pale from fever, drained of all color, lips ash grey. Her mother's throat gaped wide flashing bone and spilling crimson down her grey dress. Robb's direwolf's head wobbled on his shoulders, threatening to topple off, his severed head tucked beneath his arm. Her father's head lay at his feet in a thick puddle of blood._

"_Sansa, Bran, Rickon, Jon!" she screamed, pushing her legs faster, running from the images, the ghosts, her pursuers. "Gendry!" she almost sobbed, tears blurring her vision and tightening her throat. She wouldn't let them fall though. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a wolf of the North, she wouldn't cry._

_Suddenly, she slammed into the wall of the crypt, the rough stone scrapping at her soft skin. Standing in a small circle of light, she stared in horror. How would she get out now? There was nowhere else to run! She was trapped. Her fingers scrabbled along the stone, breaking her nails and leaving them bloody._

_A roar sounded behind her._

_With quivering fingers, she drew Needle, turning on her heel. Stalking slowly towards her, closer with each passing second, was a massive golden lion, his mane thick with blood and fangs dripping with crimson. His jaws stretched wide, another roar emitting from his very core. At his sides were the Lannisters, eyes glinting with golden irises, pupils elongated to mimic the lion's._

_Howls rang behind her. Horror slowly building in her body, she watched her mother and Sansa stride forward first, Lady at Sansa's side. "We will protect you, don't worry," her mother promised with a sad smile over her shoulder at her daughter, "We love you." It only took moments for the lion to shred them._

_Arya stood there, unable to do anything as Bran and Rickon rode forward on the backs of Summer and Shaggydog, crying out in fury. Robb and Grey Wind tore past her, howls on their lips, sword out and fangs flashing. Behind him ran Jon and Ghost, wilder howls rising from their chests._

_Jon clashed with the beast, the lion's teeth meeting with his blade. Ghost tore into the lion's hide, teeth ripping, blood spattering. "You will not get her," Jon snarled, nearly blending into the darkness of the crypts in his black Night's Watch clothing._

"_Father, I couldn't help the others. How do I help him? How do I save him?" Arya cried, voice shuddering as much as her hands. The beast raked his claws across Jon's chest, cutting deep furrows into his muscle. "No- Don't touch him!" Beside her, her father appeared, complete and whole once more. "Father, what should I do? Father…" She trailed off as he brought her into a tight hug._

"_You'll figure it out. You always do. Be brave," he whispered and was gone, running to Jon's aid with neither a sword nor even a dagger._

_A heavy snort sounded beside her, the snort of a beast readying to charge. The horror in her chest nearly spilling over, Arya turned. At first, all she saw was the massiveness of a black bull with piercing blue eyes, stamping its front hoof in challenge. She blinked, and Gendry stood in its place, war hammer in hand, blue eyes sparking protectively._

"_Gendry," she whispered, reaching out a hand to stop him. She paused when he turned his eyes to hers._

"_I'm here to protect you, m'lady," he told her._

_She had no time to tell him not to go before he was charging the beast now standing atop a hill made of her family's corpses. "__**Gendry!**__" she screamed._

…..

Arya followed her scream into the waking world, sitting bolt upright. Her small chest heaved, breath scratching through her hoarse throat. Her muscles ached as if she'd been in a remedial lesson with Syrio.

If she'd had any doubt that she'd been flailing and yelling in her sleep again, the footprint in the small of the Hound's back where she'd kicked him and the irregular breath of the waking told her what had happened in her sleep. "Go back to sleep, little wolf," he growled, "Before I shove you in the river." He readjusted, huffed, and within moments his breathing had evened back out.

"Father, Gendry," she whispered, moving away from the man beside her to the still warm embers of their afternoon fire. Stirring the fire back to life, she curled in on herself and stared into the flames. Under her breath, she murmured her list of names.

Above, snowflakes flitted around on the freezing breeze. Slowly, they alighted in her hair, making home in the lengthening, tangled brown strands. She dropped her chin, resting it on her knees. "Winter is coming," she repeated the words of her house.

Since Gendry had been taken, she'd been dreaming nightmares most men would cringe at. At first, Gendry had been their only star. Gendry stuck in a cell. Gendry bled dry from a ritual. Gendry drowning in the middle of an ocean, no one there to save him. Then they'd become dreams with her entire family after Walder Frey had killed her mother and brother. Nearly every night, she'd woken screaming one of their names. Most often though, it seemed that it was Gendry's name on her lips.

Below those were dreams, illogical dreams, that she tended to avoid thinking of during the daylight hours. They were less common, more infrequent, but oh, did they leave a mark. She'd wake from them with her entire body flushed pink, ears and neck burning, every muscle quivering but not in the way they did after a nightmare.

Before the Hound could wake, she'd go to the river they'd slept beside and clean herself of her own scent, cooling her heated skin, washing away the memory of fingers that set fire to her. When she returned, if the Hound had woken, she'd be subjected to dealing with his remarks. Things like she moaned in her sleep like a whore.

As a simple, believable lie, she'd reply by saying they were her moans of pleasure from finally feeling Joffery's blood coursing over her fingers.

She prayed that all of the dreams would cease. She didn't want to watch her family die night after night, and she didn't want to feel Gendry's unobtainable fingers sliding over her bare skin. He was her family, her friend, not her lover. She was sure he only saw her as the younger sister he never had, so what was the point of dreaming hopeless dreams?

Running her hands over her face and through her hair, Arya slumped back to the ground, curling on her side. Sleep took her mind easily enough, and just as expected, so did her dream Gendry.

…..

Arya woke with a gasp to the low, soothing, warm voice of a man singing. Her body was hot and tensed, her pulse beating out a rapid rhythm between her legs. She groaned in utter frustration. She'd just been getting to the good part. Only a few more moments and she would have…

Realization pricked at the back of her hormone addled mind. She knew that song. She knew that voice. So many times had she heard it sing that song in jest, but this time, each word sounded with true emotion. "Gendry," she whispered, sitting up quickly, "It can't be."

*_My featherbed is deep and soft/and there I'll lay you down./I'll dress you all in yellow silk/and on your head a crown_,* the voice sang, deep and pulling, *_For you shall be my lady love/and I shall be your lord./I'll always keep you warm and safe/and guard you with my sword._*

Without making the still slumbering Hound, Arya crept towards the voice, keeping low in the underbrush. The man walked slowly through the trees. He had onyx hair and muscle to spare. He only wore a leather tunic, a thin T-shirt and pair of trousers. He was completely unequipped for winter. Typical.

*_And how she smiled and how she laughed/the maiden of the tree_.*

Before she could stop herself, Arya joined in the second verse, including her own feelings. *_She spun away and said to him/no featherbed for me./I'll wear a gown of golden leaves/and bind my hair with grass/but you can be my forest love/and me your forest lass._* She didn't realize until her last note had dropped off that she'd been singing alone since she'd begun.

The man's piercing, unforgettable eyes stared right at her hiding placed. Cautiously, he called, "Arya?"

She sprang from her hiding place without a second's thought, sprinting towards him. "Gendry!" she cried, barreling into his arms.

He wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her from the ground to spin her through the air. "Gods, I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Where have you been, stupid bull? You smell like the ocean. Where was that Red Woman keeping you?" Arya asked, still holding as tightly to him as he was to her. He'd yet to set her feet back on the ground.

"Some island off the coast of King's Landing. I was out in the ocean for two days in a row boat and then I managed to catch a boat up here. I came ashore three days ago. You smell like river and dirt. What have you been doing?" he asked, finally setting her down, much to her disappointment.

She glanced over her shoulder back to where her camp was. "Travelling with the Hound since you were taken. Why did that priestess want you? What did she need you for?"

"She told me I was the bastard son of King Robert Baratheon. Said that king's blood holds power. Used some to kill three men. She was going to sacrifice me to her Red God, but one of Stannis' men saved me." He glanced away, a frown twisting down the corners of his mouth. "I don't want to be the bastard of that man."

Confusion cut through her brain, but as she continued to stare up at him, into those vivid blue eyes, she started to see the resemblance. Her eyes grew wide. "I can see it. Robert's blue eyes and black hair, nothing like Joffrey's. I wonder why that is…"

"I don't know."

"It's not so terrible being the son of Robert Baratheon. He was a great man once."

Gendry was quiet for a long moment, staring off into the trees. "Are you headed to King's Landing?" he finally asked.

"No, the Eyrie, but I wish I knew what was happening. I don't even know if Sansa is still alive."

Gendry's silence returned, his eyes slipping back to her. "I found out some things from the guys on the ship. People are beginning to panic with the impending Winter among other things."

Arya stared up at him for a long moment, trying to get her heart under control. That stare of his was as damning as it always had been, restricting her brain activity to only a few neurons. "What can you tell me?"

"Where to start?" Gendry scratched the back of his head, turning closed eyes to the storm grey sky, the same color of grey as Arya's eyes. "Your sister -Sansa?- she's fine. She's actually pregnant by what I heard."

"What?" Arya cried, staring up at him in utter shock, "By who? Not… not Joffrey, right?"

Gendry quickly shook his head. "No, she married Tyrion Lannister, his uncle, so I assume it was him, but he's been locked in a cell for a while, and she's been missing since then, but rumors seem to run far and wide on ships. They are exchanged like currency. Last I heard, she was still on a ship with Petyr Baelish, but no one knew to where."

Arya frowned. Sansa had married the Imp? When had that happened? And she was on the run with Lord Baelish of all people? She'd heard plenty of terrible things about both men, but she'd had the chance to speak to Tyrion and the Hound had told her a few things. She'd decided he probably wasn't completely terrible. If she'd had to choose between leaving Sansa with Baelish or with Tyrion, she would have chosen to leave her in the hands of Tyrion. Sighing, she asked, "What else did you hear?"

"Jaime Lannister returned with a knight, a female knight named Brienne of Tarth, missing a hand. The rumor is pretty old, but people say that Joffery and his siblings were the products of incest between Cersei and Jaime Lannister."

Arya bit her lower lip, this time ruining the bull's train of thought. "That would explain Father and Jon Arryn. They must have figured out and confronted the Queen about it, and paid the price." She ground her teeth in irritation. "Did you find anything else out?" She glanced up to find him watching her. "Gendry?"

Gendry had to drag himself from his daze. "Right… this should brighten your day more than it already has been by my presence." Laughing, Ayra shoved him, making him stumble back with a grin. His face quickly sobered. "King Joffery is dead. Someone poisoned him."

Arya's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "W-what? Someone finally killed him? Who is going to succeed him?"

"His younger brother, I supposed, if someone else doesn't rebel. Maybe, Stannis if he gets his feet back under him."

"Maybe you," Arya whispered, smiling up at him.

Gendry ruffled her hair. "I don't think I'd ever be able to rule. I'd always be in the forges with my men."

Arya grinned. "The best people to lead are those who don't want the power to begin with. My father taught me that."

"What? And you'd be my queen? The wild wolf girl of the North, Queen of Direwolves and the whole of Westeros?" He was only half joking as he nudged her shoulder.

"I would if you asked, even though I don't want a crown as much as you don't," she said soberly, then shoved his shoulder again. "You should feel honored. You're the only one I would do such a thing for, but remember, you can't tame a wolf."

He laughed. "The thought never crossed my mind."

Before the silence between them could truly develop, the Hound bellowed from their camp, "Girl, let's get moving! We've still got a long way to the Eyrie. Who the hell is that?" He tromped towards them, the horses following behind him.

Turning on her heel, Arya stalked towards her horse, making work of checking over her saddle and bags. "Gendry Waters. Gendry, where are you going?"

"The Wall," he said without a second's thought.

"Then I'll come too. Jon is at the Wall."

The Hound glared at Arya. "You think I'm just going to let you ride away?"

Arya rolled her eyes, sighing. "No, I expect you to follow so you can collect a reward. My brother will reward you for bringing me to him unharmed as much as my aunt would."

Grumbling low in his throat, the man turned his eyes towards Gendry as he mounted his horse. "You're the Baratheon bastard. She moans your name in her sleep."

Jerking her head around so hard she nearly fell over the other side of her saddle as she swung herself up, her face burned. "Sandor Clegane!" she shouted, "You piece of shit!"

The Hound barked out a laugh. "Let's get moving." Without another word, he started his horse trotting from the forest in the direction of the Wall.

Pulling himself clumsily into the saddle behind Arya, he muttered jokingly, "Moaning my name, huh?" His neck warmed beneath his collar at the very thought.

Arya shoved her elbow back into his abs. "Shut up, I do not," she snarled, kicking her horse into motion, "Oh, and by the way…"

"Yes?"

"That song you were singing. I hate it. A lot."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Oh, but isn't it so perfect for the two of us." Arya gave no reply, simply rolling her eyes.

…..

_Arya burst into a chamber filled with golden and crimson materials from wall to wall, just one of the many exactly alike in the castle. She glanced around, her breath coming hard with exertion and panic. There was nowhere to hide in here! But she could hear the clinking of the gold cloaks' shiny armor and his frenzied breaths close behind._

_Quickly shutting the door, she dove under the king-sized bed, shimmying close to the middle of the wall. She made herself as small as she could, but she wasn't as small as she once was and couldn't quite curl into a ball with the low hanging bed._

_Outside the door, the three ran passed, Joffrey calling, "Find her! I've got some things to teach her!"_

_Once the hallway had quieted, she released a sigh of relief that transformed into a screech of terror as she was yanked from beneath the bed. "No, let me go!" she snarled, reaching for needle, but she found only empty air. That was why she'd been running, she remembered, because they'd given her no chance to grab for it before cutting it free from its leather bindings. She thrashed against the gold cloaks' hands as they slammed her into the bed._

"_Good, hold her down. We don't want the little bitch escaping before I'm done with her like her sister did," Joffrey sneered, twirling a Valyrian steel sword idly through the air. Where he'd gotten a sword such as that, she wouldn't know, but Needle was tucked in his belt. "What should we do first? Check to see if she's really a girl?" He chuckled darkly._

_The faceless gold cloaks said nothing, simply pressed her down harder into the bed as she flailed and screamed to no avail. Her arms were aching where their gloved hands clutched them._

_Sliding his sword beneath the hem of her shirt which had been tucked before, he easily sliced through the thin fabric of her shirt revealing her breasts, small as they were. His eyes roamed hungrily over her even as she continued to fiercely kick her legs. "I'm not entirely convinced. Compared to your sister, you still look like a little boy. I'll guess we'll have to go further."_

_At the mention of Sansa, Arya struggled with all her might. "What did you do to my sister, you monster?!" she screamed, kicking his sword away from her, "Don't you dare touch her!"_

_The Prince smiled wickedly. "I already have. Oh, how she fought; just as hard as you. I loved the sound of her begging for me to stop. Are you going to beg, wolf bitch?" he asked, just out of reach of her kick. He was clearly straining against the tight fabric of his pants, and all she wished to do was kick his balls into his throat._

"_Never!" she howled, "I will never beg to you, bastard!"_

_Joffrey's smile fell. Flatly, he told his guards, "Hold down her legs."_

_One hand immediately left her arms, the hands left tightening even more. The freed hands clamped down on her knees, pressing them to the bed. Joffrey took a step towards her._

_Her every muscle strained to free herself. "No! Stay the hell away from me! Don't touch me!" she snarled, baring her teeth, her stormy eyes sparking with lightning. "I will kill you!"_

_Laughter spilled from Joffrey's mouth. "You are in no position to be threatening anyone." Placing his sword over her most feminine part, he cut the strings binding her pants. "I may go easy if you beg for mercy."_

"_I will not beg!" Arya screeched._

_He cut down each leg of her trousers, leaving shallow cuts along her thighs that stung and seeped blood. Easily, he stripped her of any coverings that would spare her any dignity. Any dignity she had left, that was. "Look at that," he spat, "It is female. Surprise, surprise." Stepping forward between her legs, he unlaced his trousers._

"_No!" she screamed, long and fierce._

…..

"Arya!" Gendry's voice pulled her from her newest nightmare, bringing her back. "Arya, wake up!"

Arya stared up into those consuming blue eyes, grounding her in reality. She panted, her mouth cotton dry and throat raw. She'd been screaming, again. It was uncomfortably familiar. She hadn't had a nightmare since Gendry had joined them a week before. Actually, she hadn't dreamt at all.

Warm, calloused fingers caressed her cheek. "Arya, are you alright? You're crying."

Sitting up, Arya quickly ran the palms of her hands over her face, wiping away the tears only to have more immediately take their place. Why was she crying? She hated it. It was weak and something ladies do. She was **not **a lady. And yet, the tears continued.

Cautiously, Gendry wrapped her in his arms, bringing her against his chest. "It was just a dream," he whispered to her.

"He's dead. He's dead. He's dead," she told herself, barely registering his words. "He can't hurt Sansa. He can't hurt me. He's dead."

"It was just a dream," Gendry repeated, his lips pressed to the top of her head.

The Hound's voice cut through their soft voices. "If you two love birds insist on fucking, go somewhere else. There are plenty of woods around."

"Fuck off," Arya muttered without the slightest bit of inflection.

…..

"Jon!" Arya cried, dropping to the ground and sprinting into her brother's arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. "I missed you!" Where the top of her head had only met the middle of his chest several years ago, now she could rest her forehead against his shoulder, though she only reached the bottom of his chin. "I stuck 'em with the pointy end," she whispered.

Jon squeezed her back as tightly as she squeezed him, laughing lightly. "I can see that. Thank the old and the new gods you're still alive. I'd thought I'd lost you as well," he murmured against her forehead.

"You should know that I don't die so easily," Arya told him teasingly. She instantly sobered. "Have you heard word of Bran and Rickon? I heard that Theon… but I don't believe that."

Jon shook his head. "He didn't. Rickon is here at Castle Black with Osha and Shaggydog."

"And Bran?"

"Bran… travelled beyond the Wall with Hodor, Summer and two others in search of a three-eyed raven," Jon told her somberly, "And with the impending war, I fear he may never return."

Arya stared up at him with wide eyes as deep and full as a well. "What, are you sure? We have to go bring him back."

"I know." Silence filled the space between them as they stared at the snow beneath their feet. Finally, Jon asked, "Any word of Sansa?"

"I was told that she'd wed Tyrion Lannister and is with child, but is on a ship with Petyr Baelish," Arya told him, "That was weeks ago, though."

"I'll send out a few ravens to try and locate her," Jon said. Before he could say more, a screech and bark of happiness filled the air.

"Arya!"

She turned just in time to catch a flying Rickon and was nearly bowled over by Shaggydog, stumbling back. "Rickon!" she cried, crushing him to her. Gendry cleared his throat nervously behind the trio, breaking apart the family reunion uncertainly. "Oh, right!" Arya said, beckoning Gendry forward, a sparkle in her eye. "Gendry Waters, my brother Jon Snow. Jon, my best friend, Gendry. Shake hands, make nice, I want no fighting."

Jon and Gendry smiled wryly at each other, clasping hands. "She's a handful, isn't she?" Jon asked jokingly.

"In more ways than one," Gendry agreed.

Arya scowled. "I'm standing right her, you two."

In jest, they ignored her, continuing with their conversation. "Are you planning to join the Night's Watch?" Jon asked, face serious as he watched Gendry's eyes flicker to Arya's now worried eyes.

"I wasn't planning on it, no," Gendry replied after a moment of watching his companion and friend.

"Good, someone needs to keep an eye on my wild sister since I can't." Turning to the Hound, Jon looked him up and down. "And who might this be?"

"Sandor Clegane," Arya introduced before the Hound had a chance to say something that would get him killed. "He saved Sansa's life and mine. He also escorted me here."

Jon was quiet for a moment. "I supposed you'll be wanting a reward."

"That is the only reason she's here and not with her aunt in the Eyrie."

After a moment of consideration, Jon fished a small pouch from an inside pocket. "I had a feeling I'd be needing this today." He threw it to the Hound. "You may be welcome or you may not. Unless you intend to join the Night's Watch, it will be best for you to leave."

The Hound didn't need to be told twice. He climbed atop his house, turning towards the gates. "Goodbye, little wolf. Here's hoping we never meet again."

Before the Hound had completely disappeared into the horizon, Arya turned to Jon. "We have to get Bran. Mother, Father, Robb… they're all dead, and Sansa is off only seven hells knows where. The rest of us have to stay together. We are the Starks, the Lords of the North."

"Arya," Gendry started, but she cut him off.

"You don't have to come with me," she said, smiling sadly at him, "You should go back to King's Landing and claim your birth right from the Lannisters." She didn't want him to leave, but she didn't want to get him killed beyond the Wall either.

Jon frowned. "Birth right?" He squinted at Gendry, scrutinizing his features. His frown deepened. "Who were you parents?"

Gendry seemed to become increasingly uncomfortable. "I never really knew either of them." He glanced to Arya with questioning eyes and she nodded for him to continue. "My mother had yellow hair and my father was… King Robert. I only found out recently." They were silent for a moment. "But I'm not going to leave this terror to go beyond the Wall on her own. I don't even want to claim the throne."

"Gendry, you can't! You have to go claim the throne from the Lannisters!" Arya shouted, terror flooding her veins at the thought of him beyond the Wall. She stepped between him and Jon, staring up at him. "You can't!"

"I can and I will. Where you go, I follow," Gendry told her sternly, returning her stare with just as much intensity.

Jon watched them silently, Rickon shuddering under his cloak. He was endlessly fascinated by their interactions.

Arya turned on her brother. "Jon, tell him he can't. You'll be with me! I won't be alone. He can't come with us! This is our family I'm trying to save!" She pleaded silently, imploringly with her stormy eyes. Jon watched tears fill those grey depths as Gendry spoke next, yet another stunningly new observation.

"You're the one who said you'd be my family. That makes your family my family as well, and since I've never had a family, I want to protect them," Gendry whispered with more conviction than Jon had ever heard a man utter.

Arya didn't turn, not wanting him to see the tears that had broken passed their prison. She stared up at Jon, unable to wipe the tears from her face.

Silently, Jon moved his eyes from his sister to her friend and back very slowly, very deliberately. "I cannot tell a man what he can and cannot do," he began, "I will not be going with you. I must stay here with my brothers and prepare for war. I cannot stop either of you from leaving, but I can ask that you do not go passed the Wall."

"I… Jon, I can't do that. I have to protect Bran since I've done such a great job of protecting Sansa, and Rickon's safe with you," Arya whispered, her tears beginning to dry.

"I thought you'd say that. I'll speak with the Maester to get you provisions and weapons. For now, I'll get you two a room."

"Thank you," Arya said weakly, scrubbing at her face with her sleeve before turning to take her horse to the stables. Gendry followed silently behind her.

…..

Jon had only managed to get one room for them. They lay back to back, breathing slowly in synch with one another, but they both knew the other was awake.

The silence was slowly becoming oppressive. Arya couldn't take it. Turning to face Gendry's back, she asked, "Did you really mean it?"

"Mean what?" he muttered, not turning to meet her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she said, "What you said about family."

"Why would you think I'd lie about that?"

She repeated his words from months ago back to him, "'I could be your family.' 'No, you'd be m'lady.'"

Gendry stiffened. "Yes, I meant it. I'm sorry… for that. It was stupid, and I only realized that after I was taken. I meant what I said today."

Smiling, Arya pressed against his back, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. "Thank you."

With a heavy sigh, he turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her. "You are so much trouble, did you know that?"

Arya laughed. "It's my specialty." They were quiet for a long while, simply listening to each other's heartbeats. Without so much as a warning, she brought his lips down to hers. When they pulled away, they were both lightheaded.

"What was that for?" Gendry gasped.

Arya laughed again. "I just wanted to try it out. I've been thinking about it for a long time now."

"When we first met back up, the Hound made a comment. Something about dreams. Did that have anything to do with that?"

Heat splashed across Arya's cheeks, but she pushed down the embarrassment, following her gut. She had a feeling this may be the last time she got to do that. If Jon was right and war was brewing beyond the Wall, there was a strong chance she wouldn't make it back. "Maybe," she muttered.

"Will you tell me about them?"

This was it. This was her chance to take a giant leap forward carried aloft only on her gut feeling and feigned confidence. "It'd be easier to show you," she whispered. Before he had time to react, she pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips, and kissed him deeper than the last. Much deeper.

They'd kissed before. Chaste, experimental kisses. Never before had they been so hungry, so needy. They clung to each other as if afraid that the other would disappear.

"Arya," Gendry groaned against her mouth as her hands slid down his chest and over his stomach to the laces of his trousers. It was all he could do to grab her hands and pull them away. "Arya, I can't."

"Why?" she asked, staring down at him in only a partly open t-shirt.

"I can't have a bastard," he whispered, not meeting her eyes, "I don't want them to grow up like I did."

She smiled softly, dropping light kisses across his chest. "They won't be."

"You can't marry me," he countered.

"Robb married a nurse. If he can do that, I can marry a blacksmith. Don't think I won't. I don't care what class you were born to."

"But the rest of the kingdom does."

Pulling away, Arya scowled down at him. "Gendry, shut up and kiss me."

Laughing, he pulled her back to his lips. "As m'lady commands."

"Don't call me m'lady!" Arya shouted, slapping him on the chest, only giving him cause to laugh harder.

…..

"Arya, don't!" Gendry shouted, standing guard over Bran and Jon, both of who were bloodied and passed out. Beside him stood Jon's friend Samwell Tarly, and Bran's friends Meera and Jojen. Hodor hid behind the tree. They were all armed with only small knives of dragon glass.

Standing in front of them was Arya, two knives of obsidian clutched in her hands. Before her stood four White Walkers, their skin frost blue and their eyes even bluer. They watched her silently with straight backs, ready to attack at any moment.

They were so close. They were so close to the Wall that she could no longer see the top through the clouds. They were so close! They could see the entrance leading to Castle Black. They were so damn close, and then they'd been attacked. Already the five of them had killed more than twenty White Walkers somehow. She couldn't even explain how. Their blades were chipping, their breath coming fast. These were the last four Walkers and Arya would not let them have the eight of them.

"I have to or we'll never make it!" she shouted back to him, readjusting the knives in her hands, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Let us do it!" he shouted.

She could have almost laughed. "I can't carry either of those two, and I'm better with knives than any of you anyways." With those words, she launched herself at the White Walker closest to her, shoving her knife deep into its gut. Before it had time to crumble, she attacked the next, and the next. She hurled herself at the last.

A sharp pain rang through her skull. Everything faded to black and the last thing she heard was Gendry's cry of anguish. "Arya!"

…..

_Blood spilled towards her shoes, filling the cracks of the stone floor around them, crimson and thick. Slowly following the trail of blood, Arya found Cersei Lannister's body crumpled on the floor. Her eyes, green and dead, were wide, her mouth frozen in a silent scream. Lying beside her was Tywin Lannister, his throat cut wide in a crimson smile. Leaning against a wall close by, blood seeping from his abdomen between his still fingers, was Tommen, hair slick with sweat and face with tears. Just beside him was Tyrion looking as if he were simply sleeping._

_Glancing away from the bodies, Arya stared around. They were beneath Winterfell or maybe they were beneath the Red Keep. Dragon skulls, some even taller than she was, than maybe even the Mountain, lined one wall, torches burning bright between them. On the other side were the graves of her ancestors. Her mother, her father, Robb, Lyanna, her great-grandfather, they all watched her with stone eyes._

_As Arya unclenched her fists, a dagger coated in the Lannister color clattered to the floor. As the adrenaline left her body, her legs turned to jelly._

_Gendry's arms wrapped around her, bringing her against his chest before she could collapse. "It's over," he whispered, stroking his fingers through her sweaty hair, calming her nerves, "It's finally over." Pulling her away, he turned, leading her into a wide room filled to capacity with golden sunlight._

"_Oh, Arya, what have you done to your hair?" Sansa sighed, pulling out a chair to allow Gendry to sit, Arya tucked within his arms. Her sister pushed strands sticking to her face behind her ear. She smiled softly. "Do you want to meet your niece and nephews? You've been gone so long."_

_Arya nodded, just noticing that Sansa's stomach was as flat as the day she'd left Winterfell, no sign that she'd been with child at all. "That would be nice."_

"_You know, Mother, Father and Robb would be so proud of you if they could see you now?" she asked, moving to open the doors leading to a terrace. Three children ran in, hiding behind her legs. Stepping in behind her was Jon, dressed from head-to-toe in black, Bran walking on his own two legs, and Rickon looking happier than ever. "Now, don't be shy. This is your Aunt Arya, the wild wolf of the North."_

_Over her shoulder, Arya could see three other forms shadowed by the sunlight, but she would have known them anywhere. Standing unsteadily, Gendry steadying her with his hands on her hips, she stumbled towards the trio. "Father, Mother, Robb," she cried, falling into her father's arms._

_He held her close, pressing his lips to her hair. "I am so very proud of you. Remember that."_

_Arya nodded, not trusting her voice. She wished she could stay there forever in the security of her father's arms._

…..

*_My featherbed is deep and soft/and there I'll lay you down_.*

'That damn song, I know it,' Arya thought groggily, her mind slow to wake. Violence moved through her body. 'I want to punch that person in the mouth.'

*_I'll dress you all in yellow silk/and on your head a crown_.* The man's voice was warm and gentle as a spring breeze, drawing her forward from the depthless void. *_For you shall be my lady love/and I shall be your lord._*

'I know that voice too. Who is it again? Father? No. Jon? No.'

*_I'll always keep you warm and save/and guard you with my sword_.* A warm hand enveloped hers, squeezing lightly. *_And how she smiled and how she laughed/the maiden of the tree_.*

'Idiot, you don't use a sword, you use a hammer. You're no good with a sword. I should know, I tried to teach you.'

_*She spun away and said to him/no featherbed for me.*_

'Why do you sound do sad, idiot bull? Cheer up.'

*_I'll wear a gown of golden leaves/and bind my hair with grass_.*

Arya finally pried her eyes open, looking up into the face of her idiot bull. With him, she finished the song, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips despite how she detested it. *_But you can be my forest love/and me your forest lass._* You know, that's the second time you've woken me with that stupid song?"

At the sound of her voice, scratchy and choked though it was, his heart soared and he looked down at her. "Arya, you're awake!" Gathering her up in his arms, he held her tightly to his chest.

"And you're wearing a crown. What happened to 'I don't want a crown', hm? How long was I asleep? Did hell freeze over in my absence?" she asked, hugging him back weakly. Her entire body felt like one large cooked noodle.

Gendry laughed. "Hell was always frozen over, it's called North of the Wall." He paused, pulling back enough to pass her a chaste kiss. "You've been asleep for a moon now. The only Lannisters left are Myrcella and Ser Jaime. Stannis took the thrown after King Tommen's death. Before he left to finish the war, he named me heir as he doesn't have a son. He died saving his comrades from a hoard of White Walkers. The crown was forced upon me." He paused again, an order from a certain red-head floating through his mind. "I was ordered by your sister to tell you that she had triplets the moment you awoke."

Arya smiled. "Good. She always wanted a lot of children."

They watched each other, trying to find what next to say. A smirk pulled at the corners of Gendry's mouth. "You know, a King needs a Queen otherwise he might do something wrong."

Arya shrugged, "Maybe you should marry Sansa. She's always dreamed of being queen." Unease twisted through her body, uncomfortable with that very idea. She didn't want Gendry to marry Sansa.

The look on his face told her that neither did he. "I don't want Sansa as my queen," he said slowly, frowning, "I want a wild wolf of the North at my side."

"And I want an idiot bull at mine, but I don't want a crown. I'd be a terrible queen."

"I didn't want one either, but so far, I'm a better king than I thought I'd be. And wasn't it a certain wolf that told me the best to rule are those who never wanted the power in the first place?" He raised an eyebrow her in challenge.

She simply rolled her eyes. "Fine, since you're begging me, I guess I'll be your queen as long as I'm allowed to wear trousers as often as I want." Before Gendry could reply, three red-headed beauties burst through the door, two boys and one girl, yelling and chattering as their mother chased after them. The only thing the two could do was laugh.

**Alright, there you go. That was interesting. Hope it wasn't too terrible. Let me just remind you that there was really no point to this. I just started writing and this was the product.**


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